My father forced me out of our house during a freezing October storm because my older sister claimed she\u2019d found prescription pills in my backpack.<\/p>\n
I was fifteen years old.<\/p>\n
I begged him to listen, but he refused.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet out of my house. I don\u2019t want another sick daughter under my roof.\u201d<\/p>\n
Three hours later, a police officer called him.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Brennan, your daughter was found nearly four miles from home.\u201d<\/p>\n
But what the officer revealed next was far worse than my father could have imagined.<\/p>\n
Everything began on a Tuesday evening.<\/p>\n
I was sitting at the kitchen table working on algebra when my nineteen-year-old sister, Tiffany, came downstairs carrying a small orange prescription bottle.<\/p>\n
She walked into the living room, where Dad was watching the weather forecast.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad, I found something in her backpack.\u201d<\/p>\n
I followed her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n
Tiffany held up the bottle.<\/p>\n
\u201cThese. They were in the front pocket.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father stood.<\/p>\n
\u201cDrugs? You\u2019re bringing drugs into my house?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey aren\u2019t mine!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t lie to me!\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice echoed through the room.<\/p>\n
I looked at Tiffany, expecting her to admit the truth.<\/p>\n
She wouldn\u2019t meet my eyes.<\/p>\n
Two days earlier, I\u2019d overheard Dad speaking to someone on the telephone about a prescription supposedly issued in my name.<\/p>\n
When I questioned him, he\u2019d dismissed it as an insurance mistake.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d never been prescribed that medication.<\/p>\n
Now Tiffany was accusing me of possessing it, and Dad didn\u2019t even bother checking the label.<\/p>\n
\u201cI work fifty hours a week to support this family,\u201d he shouted. \u201cAnd this is how you repay me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDad, please. I\u2019ve never seen that bottle before.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour sister found it!\u201d<\/p>\n
Tiffany stood near the hallway, looking frightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cTiffany, tell him,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
Her lips trembled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was all she said.<\/p>\n
Dad pointed toward the front door.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet out.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
Outside, freezing rain struck the windows while strong winds bent the trees.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad, there\u2019s a storm.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should have thought about that.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was wearing a thin navy sweatshirt, jeans, and old Converse sneakers.<\/p>\n
My winter coat was in the closet. My phone was charging upstairs, and my wallet was on my desk.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I at least get my coat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNow!\u201d<\/p>\n
I picked up my green backpack.<\/p>\n
Inside were an unfinished algebra worksheet and a pencil.<\/p>\n
I walked onto the porch, still expecting my father to change his mind.<\/p>\n
Instead, he slammed the door.<\/p>\n
A moment later, I heard the deadbolt turn.<\/p>\n
I waited beneath the porch roof.<\/p>\n
Surely he\u2019d realize I was only fifteen.<\/p>\n
Surely Tiffany would tell him the truth.<\/p>\n
Then the porch light went out.<\/p>\n
I stared at the dark doorway.<\/p>\n
And finally, I began walking.<\/p>\n
At first, anger kept me moving down Birchwood Street.<\/p>\n
I thought about going to my best friend Simone\u2019s house, but she lived miles away, and I didn\u2019t know her parents\u2019 phone number.<\/p>\n
My aunt Colleen lived in Columbus.<\/p>\n
I had no way to contact her.<\/p>\n
Eventually, I turned onto County Road 9, hoping to reach a gas station where someone might let me use a telephone.<\/p>\n
I thought it was only a few miles away.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know it was nine.<\/p>\n
Within minutes, rain soaked through my sweatshirt.<\/p>\n
My shoes filled with water, and my hands began trembling uncontrollably.<\/p>\n
Every time headlights appeared behind me, I turned around.<\/p>\n
I kept hoping it was Dad.<\/p>\n
But every vehicle passed.<\/p>\n
After several miles, my fingers became numb.<\/p>\n
I struggled to remember where I was.<\/p>\n
Then my legs began giving way.<\/p>\n
I stumbled onto the gravel shoulder, tried to stand, and collapsed again.<\/p>\n
A vehicle passed nearby.<\/p>\n
I attempted to call for help, but my voice wouldn\u2019t come.<\/p>\n
The last thing I remembered was the sound of rain against the road.<\/p>\n
And the click of my father\u2019s deadbolt.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know that a nurse driving home from work would soon notice something unusual beside the drainage ditch.<\/p>\n
Or that her decision to stop would become the reason my father received a phone call he would never forget.<\/p>\n
I have no memory of the woman who found me that night. Everything I eventually learned about those terrifying hours came from the nurse who rescued me, the doctors who treated me, and the police officer assigned to investigate why my father had locked me out of the house.<\/p>\n
Her name was Marguerite Adeyemi, but most people knew her as Margo.<\/p>\n
At fifty-three, Margo worked as a home health nurse. She had just completed an exhausting double shift caring for an elderly patient. A little after eleven that evening, she was driving home along County Road 9 when her headlights illuminated something lying beside a drainage ditch.<\/p>\n
Initially, she assumed it was nothing more than a discarded trash bag.<\/p>\n
She continued driving for a short distance before catching sight of something pale flashing in the headlights.<\/p>\n
It was the white rubber toe of my Converse sneaker.<\/p>\n
Margo immediately pulled over, turned her car around, and parked along the roadside.<\/p>\n
As she approached the ditch, she discovered a teenage girl lying completely still in the freezing rain, her body curled around a green backpack.<\/p>\n
That girl was me.<\/p>\n
My skin had grown dangerously cold, and I showed no response when she tried to get my attention.<\/p>\n
Recognizing the seriousness of the situation, Margo checked whether I was breathing and immediately dialed 911.<\/p>\n
While waiting for emergency services, she followed the dispatcher\u2019s instructions and began performing CPR.<\/p>\n
\nFor fourteen agonizing minutes, she fought to keep me alive on the side of that road, with freezing rain pouring down around her.<\/p>\n
When the paramedics finally arrived, my condition was already critical.<\/p>\n
They immediately took over, removed my drenched clothing, and began carefully warming my body while providing emergency medical treatment.<\/p>\n
Then, during the ambulance journey, my heart started beating again.<\/p>\n
At Riverside Medical Center, doctors discovered that my core body temperature had fallen to just 82 degrees Fahrenheit.<\/p>\n
I was suffering from severe, life-threatening hypothermia.<\/p>\n
While medical staff fought to save my life, my father remained at home.<\/p>\n
Later, he admitted that the first few hours after locking me outside were mostly a blur. He had persuaded himself that I had probably gone to a neighbor\u2019s house and would eventually come back once I was willing to apologize.<\/p>\n
Tiffany had gone upstairs to bed.<\/p>\n
Neither of them had bothered to search for me.<\/p>\n
Then, at exactly 12:47 a.m., the telephone in their house rang.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Brennan? This is Officer Prescott from the County Police Department.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father answered with an unmistakable note of annoyance in his voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is this about?\u201d<\/p>\n
Part 3: The Name on the Bottle<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Brennan, your daughter was found unconscious beside County Road 9 at approximately eleven o\u2019clock tonight,\u201d Officer Prescott said. \u201cShe\u2019s at Riverside Medical Center. Her core temperature was eighty-two degrees when she arrived.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father said nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Brennan? Did you hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2026 she\u2019s at a friend\u2019s house,\u201d he finally said. \u201cShe\u2019s fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSir, she is not at a friend\u2019s house. She was in a drainage ditch, and a nurse performed CPR for fourteen minutes. I need you at the hospital now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Later, my father told me that the phone slipped out of his hand. He said he didn\u2019t remember driving there, only the sound of the wipers and the thought that kept repeating in his head.<\/p>\n
I locked the door.<\/p>\n
I woke up on the second afternoon.<\/p>\n
The first thing I noticed was the warmth. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming, because every part of me had been so cold for so long. Heated blankets covered me, and a tube ran into my arm. The room smelled like antiseptic and weak coffee.<\/p>\n
A woman with silver-streaked braids sat in the chair beside my bed, reading a paperback.<\/p>\n
She looked up and smiled with her whole face.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, hello there.\u201d<\/p>\n
My voice came out as a croak. \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Margo. I was driving home on Tuesday night.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re the one who stopped.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m the one who almost didn\u2019t,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cI thought you were trash on the side of the road, honey. I got a hundred yards before something told me to turn around.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tears slid down the sides of my face and into my hair.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to thank me.\u201d She took my hand carefully, avoiding the IV. \u201cYou just have to keep breathing. That\u2019s the whole job.\u201d<\/p>\n
Outside the room, voices rose in the hallway. One belonged to a doctor. The other belonged to my father.<\/p>\n
I turned my face toward the window.<\/p>\n
Margo noticed.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s been here since the first night,\u201d she said. \u201cHe hasn\u2019t slept. He won\u2019t eat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want to see him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen you don\u2019t have to.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was the first time in my entire life an adult had said that to me.<\/p>\n
The investigation began before I could even sit up on my own.<\/p>\n
Officer Prescott came to my room on Thursday morning with a woman in a gray cardigan who introduced herself as Ms. Hollis from the county\u2019s child welfare office. They explained that when a minor is found in a life-threatening situation, a report is automatically opened.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to understand how you ended up on that road,\u201d Officer Prescott said gently. \u201cCan you tell us in your own words?\u201d<\/p>\n
I told them everything. The kitchen table. The algebra. The orange bottle in Tiffany\u2019s hand. The coat I wasn\u2019t allowed to grab. The deadbolt.<\/p>\n
Officer Prescott wrote it down without interrupting.<\/p>\n
When I finished, he asked, \u201cJosie, do you know what was in the bottle?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. I never saw the label. Dad never looked at it either.\u201d<\/p>\n
He exchanged a glance with Ms. Hollis.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe did,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father gave you the bottle?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe brought it to the hospital when we asked. He said it was the reason he was angry.\u201d Officer Prescott paused. \u201cThe prescription was filled at a pharmacy on Mill Avenue eleven days ago. The patient name on the label is Josephine Brennan.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s me. But I never\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d He lifted a hand. \u201cThat\u2019s why I went to the pharmacy yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room went very still.<\/p>\n
\u201cPharmacies keep records of every pickup,\u201d he continued. \u201cA signature, an ID check, and often a camera at the counter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho picked it up?\u201d<\/p>\n
Prescott looked at me for a long moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour sister.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019d known. Somewhere deep in my chest, I had known from the moment Tiffany refused to look at me in the living room. But hearing it said out loud made something collapse inside me quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe used her own driver\u2019s license,\u201d he said. \u201cShe told the pharmacist she was picking it up for her younger sister, who was sick.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wasn\u2019t sick.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why would she\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s what we\u2019re going to find out.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father came to my room that evening.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t want him there. Margo had gone home to sleep, and the nurse at the desk asked me twice whether I was sure. Eventually I said yes, because there were things I needed him to hear.<\/p>\n
He stood in the doorway for a long time, looking smaller than I had ever seen him. His shirt was wrinkled, and gray stubble covered his jaw. His hands hung at his sides as if he\u2019d forgotten what they were for.<\/p>\n
\u201cJosie.\u201d<\/p>\n
I said nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe police told me. About the pharmacy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI should have read the label.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. You should have.\u201d<\/p>\n
His face crumpled. He walked to the foot of my bed and gripped the rail so hard his knuckles turned white.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was so sure. When your sister held up that bottle, all I could think of was\u2026\u201d He swallowed. \u201cLast year, when she went through that bad stretch, I promised myself I\u2019d never go through it again. I promised I\u2019d catch it early. I\u2019d be strict. I\u2019d never look away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you looked at me instead.\u201d<\/p>\n
He flinched.<\/p>\n
\u201cI told you I didn\u2019t want another sick daughter,\u201d he whispered. \u201cI said that out loud. To a fifteen-year-old kid. In a storm.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know how to make that right.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think you can.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded slowly, tears dropping onto the blanket.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I need you to tell me something,\u201d I said. \u201cOn Sunday, I heard you on the phone talking about a prescription in my name. You told me it was an insurance mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes closed.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you already know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe pharmacy called the house,\u201d he said in a hollow voice. \u201cSomeone had questions about my insurance card. I thought it was a clerical error. But part of me\u2026\u201d He stopped. \u201cPart of me wondered. And I didn\u2019t want to find out.\u201d
\n
\n\u201cBecause it would be Tiffany.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause if it was Tiffany, I\u2019d have to admit I\u2019d failed her. And if it was you, I could just be angry.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was the most honest thing my father had ever said to me.<\/p>\n
It didn\u2019t fix anything. But it was true, and for the first time, I could breathe a little easier.<\/p>\n
Tiffany came on Saturday.<\/p>\n
She stood in the hallway for a long time before knocking. When she finally stepped inside, she looked as though she hadn\u2019t slept since Tuesday. Her hair hung limp around her pale face, and her hands shook.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n
She sat in the chair beside my bed, the same chair Margo had used, and stared at the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not here because the police told me to,\u201d she said. \u201cAlthough they did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m here because I couldn\u2019t stop seeing that door.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was standing at the top of the stairs when Dad locked it,\u201d she said. \u201cI heard you knocking. I heard you calling my name, Josie. For almost twenty minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
My throat burned.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just stood there,\u201d she whispered. \u201cI told myself you\u2019d be fine. I told myself Dad would cool off. But I knew. I knew what I\u2019d done, and I let you stand in the rain.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
She finally looked up. Her eyes were red and swollen.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I was scared.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf Dad finding out it was me.\u201d She pressed her hands against her face. \u201cI started taking the pills after my back surgery two years ago. When the doctor stopped refilling them, I found other ways. A friend of mine knew a clinic that wasn\u2019t careful. I put your name on the paperwork because they had your insurance information on file from your dentist appointments.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou used my identity.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d Her voice cracked. \u201cI know how awful it sounds.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou hid them in my backpack.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI panicked. Dad was getting suspicious. I thought if he found them in my room, I\u2019d lose everything, and I couldn\u2019t\u2026\u201d She broke off, sobbing. \u201cI thought he\u2019d just yell at you. I thought you\u2019d get grounded. I never imagined he\u2019d throw you out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut he did, and you let him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t argue or make excuses. She just cried and kept her eyes on mine, and that was the hardest part to sit through.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not asking you to forgive me,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m telling you what happened, so nobody ever says it was your fault.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked out the window at the gray November sky.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you want help?\u201d I asked quietly.<\/p>\n
She blinked. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe pills. Do you want to stop?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2026\u201d Her face twisted. \u201cYes. I think I\u2019ve wanted to for a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen tell Dad. Tell the police everything. Don\u2019t make me do it for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cI already did,\u201d she said. \u201cYesterday. I\u2019m checking into a treatment program on Monday.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t ready to forgive her. But I was glad she was still alive.<\/p>\n
The weeks that followed were quiet and difficult.<\/p>\n
Officer Prescott closed his investigation. The county prosecutor declined to press charges against Tiffany for the forged prescription because she\u2019d entered treatment voluntarily and made a full statement, though she had to complete a court-supervised program. My father faced a separate review by the child welfare office. They concluded that while he hadn\u2019t intended harm, his decision had put me in grave danger.<\/p>\n
He was ordered to attend counseling and parenting classes as a condition of any future custody arrangement.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t argue.<\/p>\n
Aunt Colleen drove down from Columbus the day I was released. She was my mother\u2019s younger sister, a loud, warm woman who hugged me so hard my ribs creaked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re coming home with me,\u201d she said. \u201cFor as long as you need.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at my father, standing awkwardly beside the hospital doors with his hands in his pockets.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that okay?\u201d I asked him.<\/p>\n
He took a long time to answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d he said at last. \u201cIt\u2019s what you need.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need to be somewhere safe. I haven\u2019t been that for you.\u201d His voice broke. \u201cI\u2019m going to spend the rest of my life earning the right to be.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t hug him that day.<\/p>\n
But I didn\u2019t leave without saying goodbye either.<\/p>\n
I lived with Aunt Colleen through the winter and into spring.<\/p>\n
Margo visited twice, bringing homemade peach cobbler and a stack of nursing textbooks she thought I might like to borrow. By April, I\u2019d begun asking her questions about her work. By May, I\u2019d decided what I wanted to do with my life.<\/p>\n
\u201cA nurse,\u201d I told her one afternoon on Colleen\u2019s back porch.<\/p>\n
She smiled, but her eyes were wet.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d be a good one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause you kept breathing when you had every reason not to,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd because you still asked about your sister when you woke up.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know what to say.<\/p>\n
\u201cCompassion\u2019s not weakness, Josie,\u201d Margo said, squeezing my hand. \u201cIt\u2019s the whole job.\u201d<\/p>\n
In June, I came home for a visit.<\/p>\n
The house on Birchwood Street looked the same, but the porch had been repainted, and a new coat rack stood just inside the door. Beside it hung my winter coat, brushed clean and waiting.<\/p>\n
Dad stood in the kitchen, thinner than I remembered, and nervous.<\/p>\n
\u201cI made dinner,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s nothing fancy.\u201d<\/p>\n
On the table sat a chicken casserole and a bowl of green beans. Beside the plates, someone had placed a small framed photo of my mother.<\/p>\n
We ate mostly in silence.<\/p>\n
When we finished, he cleared his throat.<\/p>\n
\u201cTiffany finished her first ninety days. She called this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow is she?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cScared. Honest. Trying.\u201d He rubbed his forehead. \u201cShe wants to see you. Only when you\u2019re ready.\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought about the girl at the top of the stairs. I thought about the voice that wouldn\u2019t come out on the roadside.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe in the fall,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
He nodded, as if I\u2019d given him a gift.<\/p>\n
Before I left that evening, he followed me to the front door. His hand hovered near the deadbolt.<\/p>\n
\u201cI had every lock in this house replaced,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cBut I kept this one.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo I\u2019d never forget what it sounds like.\u201d He swallowed hard. \u201cAnd so I\u2019d remember what it means to open it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned the bolt and pulled the door wide.<\/p>\n
Warm evening air drifted across the porch. The light was on.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ll always have a way in, Josie. Always.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stepped onto the porch, then turned back.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t forgiveness. Not yet. But it was a beginning.<\/p>\n
Behind me, the light stayed on until I reached the end of the street.<\/p>\n
THE END<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
PART 1 My father forced me out of our house during a freezing October storm because my older sister claimed she\u2019d found prescription pills in my backpack. I was fifteen … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":25629,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[15,16,6,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-25631","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-news","category-real-life-story"],"brizy_media":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/25631","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=25631"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/25631\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":25632,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/25631\/revisions\/25632"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/25629"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=25631"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=25631"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=25631"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}